


Calling Down the Skies

by writing_out_my_inner_voices



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Heavy Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Skyrim Civil War, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:02:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25786312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_out_my_inner_voices/pseuds/writing_out_my_inner_voices
Summary: Legends have spoken of the Dragonborn. A strong Nord warrior, the bane of the dragons, stepping forth from who knows where to free Skyrim from the end times, saving them from calamities and chaos alike.What the people of Skyrim get is Caii'hn, barely an adult, a Redguard.He couldn't possibly be the Dragonborn. The idea that the person of legends would be a Redguard, much less a child, much less someone who looks like an axe would swing him more than he could swing it.It's appalling, laughable, and absolutely impossible. The world is ending, and there's no one to stop it.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

The tricky thing about legends was figuring out where the warnings of the past started, and where the myths of the future ended.

The legend of the Dragonborn had been a thing passed down for centuries, since Skyrim was first settled. Mothers, fathers, elders, all spoke in reverence of the foretold shadowy figure, a mortal with the soul of a dragon, barely contained by this plane of existence, likely not held by the next.

But centuries passed, and the whispers of the Dragonborn dwindled and faded.

It seemed that this savior and harbinger of destruction was truly a thing of legend and old wives' tales, rather than a thing of terrible awe-inspiring fear and respect.

People let their guards drop to the floor, fears faded to amusement at their own follies and silly misconceptions. 

The world fell over and over into its chaos, as blood soaked the earth, blue skies darkened to gray, and friends killed each other in the name of being right.

It was only when a bard, bold and fearless, knowing the act would mark him for death, sang the song in a crowded tavern. 

_Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes._

His body was felled by swords within the hour, behind the inn, but the melody carried in the hearts and minds of those who had heard him, and beyond the walls of the tavern.

_You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn comes._

The words sparked up long-buried memories of myths, legends, and those shadowy figures unknown and unheard of, and the song burned across Skyrim like fire. 

_Hurrah, hurrah, the Dragonborn comes._


	2. Chapter 2

The golden streams of sunlight fell scattered across both solid and fallen pine trees, flaking white bark clashing with dark green grass, blending into the off-white crunch of snow still falling from the sky.

Before, the sky had been a brilliant blue, bursting with cheer and calm, full of spiraling birds and fluffy clouds. Now, it was silent, pale gray with the threat of rain in the distance. 

While not quite a vengeful entity, with her lofty space above the world, her unblinking stare threatened to swallow up the land and its inhabitants with just a glance. 

Under her watchful eye, three carts rolled up the mountainside, following a narrow dirt path that jolted and rocked the bound prisoners inside. 

Save for their captors, the sky, and the gods keeping watch over them in a painful silence, those unfortunates in ragged scraps of clothing with hands tied, were alone to contemplate their fates.

"Damn you, Stormcloaks. Things were fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy."

The rough growl of contempt managed to drag Caii'hn from a rough bout of sleeping hunched over. A light kick against the side of his foot had him glancing up at the man in front of him, who had blonde hair with a braid tied on the left side, kind blue eyes and a smile that didn't match the haunted shadows lingering across his face.

"Hey, you. You're finally awake."

Whatever argument had been started by the one side went ignored. The man picking a fight was covered in dirt, younger, maybe a couple years older than Caii'hn, looking as angry, jaded, and haunted as anyone else in the cart.

Caii'hn glanced to the seat next to him, and found a man staring him down, a gag wrapped around his head and blonde hair falling in disarray around his face. Gold-green eyes pierced into him, a glare burning deeper than anything Caii'hn had ever felt before. He looked away, rolled his shoulders, winced at the slight pop of them adjusting, and nodded, glancing around.

"Where are we?"

"We're about six hours away from the border and I'm not sure where we're going. You were trying to cross, right?"

He sucked in a soft breath, tried to reorganize his thoughts from when he had been coherent and conscious, to now, when his head ached sharply every time he turned it just a little-

"They hit me."

"To knock you out, I imagine. You were putting up quite a fuss."

A slow nod moved through him, and he shrugged before glancing around at the thick dark green forest surrounding them, could see the faint traces of bolting deer and rabbits through the trees, the occasional flit of butterflies and dragonflies past plants.

"What's your name, cub?"

"Caii'hn. Yours?" 

"Ralof." 

"It's nice to meet you." 

"Likewise." 

Caii'hn managed a smile, even if it didn't quite reach his eyes. But it didn't really matter, because Ralof's smile mirrored his own. 

This was simply two people talking before the inevitable. Then who knew what came after, whether the gods welcomed them or tore them to shreds. 

There was really no knowing, not when the gods had been all but silent in the past three decades.  
Maybe it had been longer than that, but no one had really been paying attention until then.

Some blamed Ulfric Stormcloak, some blamed the Imperials, some blamed the Forsworn. Everywhere, people were pointing fingers at others for what had gone wrong. 

What else was there to do when plants and animals rotted, when prayers were left hovering in heavy stagnant air that threatened to swallow the devout whole, when a civil war broke out, and the world fell apart further around it.

Caii'hn felt that it wasn't anyone's fault if the gods left them to fend for themselves. But then again, he had never been one to put all of his life and faith and heart in gods. Those beliefs had all died with his mother, and he would be happy never to uncover them again.

Silence dragged on, and it felt like they would never get to their destination, wherever that destination was. Birds chirped around them from the safety of the trees, while snow continued to fall faintly, and storm clouds loomed ever closer. 

"If it wasn't for you, I could have stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now." 

Caii'hn glanced up at the young man, who was once again glaring daggers into Ralof's head, attempting to do him in before the chopping block. 

Ralof stared back at the self-proclaimed horse thief, his tentative smile fading into one of calm acceptance, a learned sort of spiteful, quiet vengeance that showed he neither cared nor entertained any sort of irritation towards the thief's words. 

This was a man who had heard far worse than anything a prisoner in rags covered in dirt could come up with. 

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, _thief_."

Ralof raised his own tied hands, dropped them back into his lap. The cart rattled on.

The predicament was the same for all of them, regardless of where they came from. The horse thief slumped back against the side of the cart, looked away from them both. 

"So, Caii'hn, where do you hail from?" 

Ralof's voice still held a sliver of friendliness that didn't belong in the back of a prisoner cart, but it was a welcome shift to the foreboding weight still hovering over them, and getting heavier. 

"Originally or now?" 

"Both." 

"Originally, Hammerfell. Now, nowhere." 

If Ralof was confused by that statement, he didn't show it, and offered a polite smile, one Caii'hn never expected to receive from a Nord. 

"It's far colder here than it is there." 

Caii'hn grimaced in agreement, shifted like he might wrap his arms around himself, not being able to because of how he was tied. Ralof offered an apologetic smile to his dilemma. 

With their fates tied to the bindings around their wrists, silence caught them up in its cold embrace, and the chill of Skyrim wrapped them up further as they descended down the mountain towards Helgen.

Caii'hn would have thought that the death sentences would have happened right away, but apparently, rainy days were full of superstition, and bad omens, so the prisoners were locked away in the Helgen dungeons. The executions would commence once the rain stopped.

The world outside stormed, rain battering down on the keep, leaking down between stones and grime, to drip on the captives below. 

If the chopping block didn't take them first, the rain would. 

Caii'hn let out a soft cough, found a blanket dropped over his shoulders by Ralof. 

Lokir was away from them both, huddled in the corner, shivering still. The dungeons were cold, but losing hope was like ice. 

Caii'hn knew how that felt, and how isolating it proved to be. He caught up the blankets in a bundle, and after shooting a look at the Imperial guard who looked less than thrilled to be there, he crawled over to Lokir. He dropped the two blankets over him, flinching when Lokir flinched, his eyes wide.

The horse thief stared at him, eyes wide, shock washing over his face, his body, freezing him to the spot before he turned his head and mumbled gratitude. With some effort due to the cold of the dungeons and the ache in his muscles, he nodded, moved back to his spot, and tried to find a safe spot where ice wouldn't drip down his back. 

It proved inevitable, so he just curled up on one of three piles of hay in the cell, shifting with the way he was poked, and tried to rest.

Resting only proved to be him laying there, staring at the wall. He tossed, turned, rolled over, stretched, mostly silently, until he couldn't anymore. 

The ceiling caught his eye, less out of interest and more out of desperation. He rested there for awhile, and glanced over to find Ralof watching him. He sat up and watched him curiously.

_Why isn't he sleeping?_

"...Trouble sleeping?"

Caii'hn nodded, and Ralof offered a sympathetic smile.

"Imperial soldiers tend to have that effect-"

"Being intimidating or..." 

"Just being there, being present."

"You're right. I can't really sleep when they're around. Haven't ever been able to."

Ralof leaned towards Caii'hn, as if he might share a secret, and Caii'hn leaned forward as well, ready to hear it.

"I think they simply steal sleep from others." 

A slow smile dragged at Caii'hn's mouth, a soft laugh escaping before he nodded, eyes wide and expression turning somber.

"Like vampires." 

"Exactly." 

The joke was weak, but so were they, and the dungeon swept up the moment of relief and joy, shoving it away into oblivion as the night dragged into day.


	3. Chapter 3

Night came and went, and morning was shoved upon them when guards came in, and dragged them out to the bright sunlight.

"It really would have been too much to ask for us to be killed at night when we could see, aye?"

That earned Ralof a hard smack against his head. Caii'hn flinched in sympathy, and he leaned over to him.

"Are you alright?"

"Ah, not to worry. He hits like a fresh corpse."

Ralof offered a quick smile at his wit, and Caii'hn let out a weak snicker. They shared a brief laugh, a quick moment of relief, broken apart like glass when the executioner walked past them, silver axe glinting in sunlight. 

Caii'hn looked at the sky, over at the gathered crowd of Imperial soldiers, then finally, at the group of rebels the Imperials were certain would bring about the end of an entire nation as they knew it. What rebels they made, in rags and worn from days of travel and no sleep. What a true threat they were.

Not that he was a rebel, but this group truly didn't look like the kind that could overthrow an entire society. Not in this poor state.

"Have you any plans once this is over with?"

Caii'hn shot Ralof a look, shocked at the idea that the other would ask what his plans were after losing his fucking head-

_Oh, he's joking._

He smiled a bit and shrugged, as much as he could with how tight the binds were.

"I think I might get a drink. I imagine I'll need one after all this."

Ralof nodded, approving of his plans, and also of him going along with Ralof's attempt at distraction and humor.

"Do you mind if I join you? Some ale and a bowl of stew sounds like the perfect end to this horrendous day."

"I'd enjoy the company."

Caii'hn grinned, and found Ralof not quite looking at him, but past him. Oh no-

"Oi, horse thief!"

Caii'hn glanced over at the horse thief in question, who stared back at them with an incredulous look, similar to the one Caii'hn had given Ralof only moments before. He saw Ralof grin out of the corner of his eye, couldn't quite stifle the laugh that fell out of him.

"You're welcome to join us for food and drink as well. We'd be better company than these Imperials and their rules and lists?"

Against all odds, the offer, as false and hopeless as it was, had Lokir smiling back at them, nodding.

"Perhaps I will join you. A drink and food sounds preferable to hearing their lectures."

Whether it was because he was closest, or because he had encouraged Ralof's tormenting banter, Caii'hn found his shoulder caught, and his body dragged over to the chopping block, the priestess' words cutting like knives through the quiet. Too calm, too collected, too accepting of bloodshed-

"As we commend your souls' to Aetherius, blessings-"

"Shut up, and let's get this over with-"

Caii'hn felt the sticky wet squish of blood against his neck and cheek before he felt the scrape of rough wood. The hand pinning him down was strong, and struggling did nothing but make an ass out of him. He stilled, eyes wide as he watched the executioner approach, his axe lift-

\----

The terror of attempting to outrun a guard after stealing a ring from someone's pocket was nowhere near the terror of outrunning a dragon's hellfire.

In a matter of a minute, all hell and Oblivion had broken loose. Soldiers and commoners had dropped under the raze of hellfire like flies. Lokir had been caught in the crossfire of arrows, dead insteantly. 

Caii'hn found himself free from his captor's grasp, as a dragon definitely took precedence over a beheading. He barely managed to get to his feet, dragged upwards by Ralof, who led him to a broken watchtower for shelter.

"Up through the tower, we need to jump!"

"Are you fucking insane? Jump?"

Fire moved mountains, and so did the threat of a raging harsh torrent of flame and dragon claws. He threw himself out of the watchtower, hit the floor of the building hard, scrambled to his feet, wrists aching and raw from the harsh bonds still keeping him from true freedom.

Minutes felt like seconds, screams felt like distant echoes, and the harsh burn of flames felt like a hug, the surreal danger and reality only weighing down on him when he and Ralof found a safe haven in the keep.

That was when panic hit, and tears actually burned down his cheeks. A hand rested on his shoulder, patted him awkwardly as sobs filled the small room they were in, even as screams and crashes threaded through from outside. The pats turned a bit impatient, a bit frantic, and he straightened up, rubbing at his eyes.

"Hey, it's all right. We're alive. That's more than we could have expected."

A delayed flinch moved through him once he found his hands free, and rubbed at them, sucking in a breath. Ralof offered the weakest of smiles to him, exhaustion and fear darkening the older man's expression.

"Let's try to find a way out, before this whole place crushes us to dust."

"Better dust than up in flames?"

Ralof nodded, and with a light, gentle hand, guided Caii'hn quickly through the room, and downstairs.

\----

Caii'hn hadn't really swung an axe before that day, but he found out he could manage a few good swings, and he also found out he wasn't too bad at it. 

Ralof even praised him for picking up the art of fighting so far. Caii'hn figured he was stuffed full of flattery and not much else.

Perhaps compliments were the key to surviving the chaos of a dragon crushing a village to smoke and rubble. Maybe it wasn't sword or arrows that would end it, but a well-placed compliment about the shine and sleek allure of scales.

He wouldn't ever try that defense, but he'd commend whoever was the first to put it to the test.

Escaping Helgen was both one of the most terrifying things he'd ever done, and far more simple than he would have expected. Fear flooded him again when Ralof dragged him down to hide behind a rock, the shadow of the dragon falling over them with an icy chill before it faded into the sky.

Reality wasn't quite here, and Caii'hn barely was able to follow what Ralof was saying to him, much less physically follow him. 

It was when he found a bowl of stew pressed to his hands, the warmth of a fire against his back, a gentle press of clothes into his arms, and a light touch of a hand in his hair that relief flooded him like a wave.

He was alive, against all the odds that had set out to prove him expired since the very start of that week. 

_I'm alive_.

Someone, probably Gerdur, hugged him. They smelled like wood and fire and home, held him as he lost himself, as his vision blurred, as his mind faded, as clarity lost itself to the relief of still being alive and well and despite everything that had happened, okay.


End file.
